Amelia looked blank. ‘Oh, no, I did not mean the picture! No, the dust! Everywhere! These curtains are filthy and my room cannot have been cleaned for an age! I shall speak to the housekeeper immediately after luncheon!’
‘I feel we may be fortunate to have any luncheon,’ Sarah said drily. She thought about unpacking her trunk and decided against it. There really was nowhere clean to put all her clothes. ‘I doubt that Sir Ralph’s guests will arise before this afternoon and I am not even sure that there is a housekeeper here any more! Certainly Mrs Lambert left after my brother died and I do not imagine Sir Ralph finds it easy to keep servants…’
‘He certainly does not keep any good ones!’ Amelia opined, running her finger along the dust on the bedhead. ‘Look at this, Sarah! I would have plenty to say to my servants if this was the state of my house! And as for that undrinkable coffee…’
‘It is still a beautiful place, though,’ Sarah said, a little wistfully. She was standing at the window, looking out across the rolling Somerset hills. Beyond the ring of woodland, the fields tumbled away towards the village and beyond. It gave one the impression of standing on top of the world.
‘Yes,’ Amelia said, her tone softening, ‘it is indeed a lovely house and it is a crime that it should have been allowed to become so neglected.’ She brightened. ‘I was wondering what I should do with myself whilst you were about your mysterious quest, my love! Well, now I have my answer! I shall bring order and cleanliness to Blanchland!’
Sarah raised a mental eyebrow at the thought of Amelia sweeping through the house like a new broom. She rather thought that Sir Ralph would be terrified at the prospect.
‘You will tell me what all this mystery is about once it is resolved, will you not?’ Amelia asked, a little plaintively, tracing the pattern on the bedspread. ‘I know it is a personal matter, but I do so dislike secrets!’
‘Of course!’ Sarah touched her cousin’s hand. ‘I am sorry to be so secretive, Milly—it is only the fact that the tale is not really mine to tell that holds me back!’
‘Sir Ralph did not seem very curious,’ Amelia observed thoughtfully. ‘I am surprised he did not press you more on the reasons for your presence here!’
‘I think he was too embarrassed,’ Sarah said, with a giggle. ‘Poor Ralph, I believe he thinks we will put a blight on his revels!’
‘Well, we may try!’ Amelia got to her feet. ‘Sarah, I have been thinking about Lord Renshaw’s purpose in accompanying us. I know that you said that the Earl decreed it, but are you sure that it is not also because Guy wishes to be near you? It seems to me that his lordship is intent on pursuit—of one description or another!’
Sarah knew that a telltale blush burned her cheek. She was not sure whether it would be worse to tell Amelia the truth about Guy’s proposal or distract her by sharing what she had overheard the previous night. But that would involve too many explanations; besides, she knew that Amelia’s real interest lay in the romantic aspect of the case.
‘Well…Lord Renshaw has made me an offer, Milly, but it is not at all as you imagine!’
Amelia looked understandably bewildered. ‘An offer? But not as I imagine? Pray, how do you think I am imagining it, Sarah?’
‘No, I mean, it is not at all romantic—’ Sarah struggled, aware that she was making a mull of things. ‘That is, Lord Renshaw offered me the protection of his name in much the same way as Greville offered for you! Now you understand me?’
‘Oh, I see!’ Amelia’s brow cleared. ‘It seems to me that the gentlemen have been suffering an excess of chivalry,’ she added, in an acerbic tone. ‘What was your answer, Sarah?’
‘I told him that he need not put himself to the trouble! I dare say I was not very gracious, but I thought his actions high-handed and arrogant—’
‘He was not, then, proposing because of his behaviour to you the night of the ball?’ Amelia asked delicately. ‘If he realised that he had mistreated an innocent girl—’
Sarah blushed vividly. ‘No! He did mention the…incident, but said…’ she hesitated ‘…that he regretted all the things he had said, but he did not regret what he had done!’
‘Well, that’s honest at least!’ Amelia laughed. ‘Why did you not accept him, Sarah? You know you have a tendre for him—’
‘I do not!’ Sarah said hotly. She met her cousin’s amused gaze and added, a little shamefacedly, ‘I’ll admit that he is a prodigiously attractive man and I might have had a small partiality for him before, but that is quite at an end! Why, there are a dozen reasons to refuse him! I think him altogether too presumptuous and sure of his own charm! And you of all people should understand, Amelia, for Greville’s overbearing behaviour did not find favour with you!’
Amelia pursed her lips, distracted as Sarah had intended her to be. ‘No, indeed! To announce to all and sundry that we were betrothed! It quite puts me out of patience! And it is very out of character!’
‘Yes.’ Sarah regarded her cousin thoughtfully. ‘Yet it is odd, for you have been always blaming Greville for being too courteous! It seems he cannot do right in your eyes!’
Now it was Amelia’s turn to look away in confusion. ‘Well, you must allow that he is generally a very amiable gentleman! I thought him so amiable that he was almost dull!’
‘Yet for all your protests I believe you find this display of autocratic behaviour rather attractive,’ Sarah said shrewdly. ‘You had best be quick if you wish to stake your claim, Amelia! I believe some of the ladies at this houseparty might find him attractive, too!’
Luncheon proved to be the disappointment that Sarah had suspected. There was only herself and Amelia present, for the gentlemen had apparently gone out for a ride and Sir Ralph’s guests had still not put in an appearance.
‘I dare say they have ridden over to Woodallan for a square meal!’ Amelia said darkly. ‘It is the outside of enough! First they force their company on us and then they promptly disappear!’
They rang the bell several times and finally a slatternly maid appeared who seemed amazed to be asked to provide some food. An inordinate amount of time later, she returned with a plate of stale bread and smelly cheese, slapped it down on the table and strode out again.
‘Monstrous!’ Amelia said, two bright spots of outrage burning in her cheeks. ‘The sooner I take matters into my own hands, the better!’
Sarah nibbled a crust of bread, forced down a little of the cheese, then went to fetch her cloak. She had resolved to set off immediately on her quest to find Olivia and, as Guy was out of the way, it seemed a good opportunity. She did not want him dogging her footsteps, and if she was able to steal a march over him, so much the better. Perhaps, if she was really lucky, she would find Olivia at once and they could all escape from this awkward situation.
The path down to Blanchland village was muddy where the sun had melted the snow. Water dripped from the bare branches of the overhanging trees and Sarah picked her way with care, huddling in her cloak against the cold. She had walked that path many a time when she was a child and enjoyed passing all the sites she remembered from then: the hollow tree where she had played hide-and-seek, the stile over the hedge into Farmer Burton’s field, where once she had been chased by a bull, the old tumbledown gatehouse…Sarah sighed over her memories, picked up her skirts where the mud was an inch deep, and entered the main street of the village.
She noticed a change at once. Blanchland village was only small, one main road with houses on either side, but it had always been a bustling community. Now, however, half of the cottages looked either empty or neglected, the land overgrown with weeds and the retaining walls tumbling into the street. There was no sign of life except for the smithy, from where the clang of hammer on iron could be heard.
The doctor’s house was the only residence of any size in the village, set back a little from the road, with a modest carriage sweep before it and neatly tended gardens all around. Sarah rang the bell, but there was no answer. She had hardly expected to find O
livia Meredith at home, but hoped that her mother or even a servant might be present to give some information. However, the house had a closed and shuttered air very similar to Blanchland and there was something watchful about its silence. Sarah tiptoed through the shrubbery and round the back, and peered in at the scullery window, but there was no sign of life. Then, something moved behind her. She saw the reflection on the glass and spun round with a gasp of alarm. An old man, clutching a garden hoe in a vaguely threatening manner, was standing right behind her.
‘B’aint no one ’ere, miss, so it would be best that you go…’
‘I am looking for Mrs Meredith,’ Sarah said haughtily, feeling embarrassed at being caught prying. ‘Pray tell me, will she be home soon?’
‘No,’ the old man said. He offered no further information and waggled the hoe at her. ‘Best to leave, ma’am!’
Sarah raised her eyebrows at the threatening tone and the fierce light in the man’s blue eyes. Somehow his antagonism made her want to stand her ground. ‘And Miss Meredith? Is she at home?’
‘No,’ the man said again. ‘Powerful many folks looking for Miss Meredith these days!’ He shifted slightly. ‘Now then, ma’am, I’m sure you would not like me to call the constable—’
‘I should like it above all things,’ Sarah said crossly, ‘so that I may tell him how unwelcoming you are to visitors here in Blanchland! Why, in my father’s day no one would have spoken thus! What has happened to turn this place so unfriendly?’
The old man lowered his hoe slowly, peering at her from beneath his thatch of white hair. ‘And who might you be then, ma’am?’ He took a step forward. ‘Never Miss Sarah come back to us!’
Recognition struck Sarah at the same time. ‘Tom! I am so sorry! I did not recognise you! Why, it must be fifteen years—’
‘Fourteen and a half,’ the old man said, ‘since I left Blanchland. And two since I came back. Aye, and a mistake that was good and all!’
Sarah sat down on the garden wall and gestured to him to join her. Tom Brookes had been the head groom at Blanchland when she had been a little girl, but had left when Sarah was nine years old to join his brother in running an inn down in Devon. Evidently the venture had not worked out.
‘What happened to the inn, Tom?’ Sarah asked sympathetically. She knew that he had sunk all his savings into it.
‘Locals didn’t like the competition,’ Tom said morosely. ‘Lot of trouble, Miss Sarah, so in the end I came home. Went to the big house, but Sir Ralph wasn’t taking on staff, not even those who’d worked for the family before. No horses anymore, neither.’ He spat on the path. ‘Begging your pardon, Miss Sarah, but the house ain’t the same as it used to be. No one takes care of it—no one wants to work there neither, with the things that go on! Shocking, it is. No…’ he shook his head ‘…it was the worst of all times when the old lord died.’
‘The village seems as bad,’ Sarah said. ‘Why, it is deserted! I would scarce have recognised it! What happened to the school, Tom?’
‘Closed. I misremember when. But it’s a bad business…’
‘And Mrs Meredith—has she left, too? I know that the doctor died a few years back, but I thought that his wife and daughter continued to live here?’
Tom was watching her thoughtfully with his very blue eyes. Sarah had the suspicion that he was nowhere near as simple as he was pretending to be.
‘Mrs Meredith’s gone to stay with her sister near Glastonbury,’ he said, in his thick Somerset burr. ‘I don’t know when she’ll be back, Miss Sarah, and that’s a fact.’
‘And Miss Meredith?’ Sarah persisted. She had a feeling that there was something he was not telling her. ‘You said that lots of people were looking for her?’
‘Aye.’ Tom threw away the piece of grass he had been chewing and straightened up. ‘Powerful few. And all of them gentlemen. Always gentlemen asking after Miss Olivia! First some young gentleman that’s staying at the big house, then a lord that’s a friend of Sir Ralph…’ he looked as though he was about to spit again, but thought better of it ‘…and today a mighty fine gentleman with his London clothes and his gold…’
A small shiver went down Sarah’s spine. ‘A gentleman from London?’
‘Oh, no, Miss Sarah! London clothes, London manners, but…’ Tom hesitated. ‘Mrs Anthrop said as he was from Woodallan, and she should know, for her daughter’s in service there now that there’s no work at the big house!’
Sarah frowned. So Guy had already been asking questions in the village! In fact, he had deliberately misled her by telling her he was going out riding when he was actually looking for Olivia. Sarah’s eyes narrowed. She had been right to be suspicious last night. Lord Woodallan and his son were pursuing some secret quest of their own!
Sarah stood up and shook out her skirts. She could not afford to lose any time in the hunt, or Guy would get there first!
‘Gave me some money,’ Tom was saying, with a disparaging sniff, ‘and told me to tell no one he was asking. But as it’s you, Miss Sarah…’
Sarah smiled. ‘Thank you, Tom. Miss Meredith must be very pretty, I suppose,’ she added, ‘to be so admired. She was a lovely little girl—’
‘Aye,’ Tom said grudgingly, ‘a proper lady is Miss Meredith! And well to a pass, like you, Miss Sarah! How comes it that you’re not married?’
‘I fear I am too particular,’ Sarah said, and heard the old man laugh for the first time. ‘Well, I had best be going if Miss Meredith is not at home. But, Tom—’ She stopped, suddenly struck by a thought. ‘If you see her, pray tell her that I was looking for her.’ She gave him a very straight look. ‘And if she is in any need of help, please let her know that I will stand her friend. Indeed, I am here for that very purpose!’
The old man touched his cap. ‘I’ll be sure and do that, Miss Sarah. If I see her.’
Sarah nodded. ‘Thank you. Good day, Tom!’
The old man watched her walk away though the shrubbery, but when she was gone, he did not return to his hoeing.
Out in the main street Sarah hesitated, but could see no other purpose than to return to Blanchland. It was dispiriting, for she had hoped for some clue to Olivia’s whereabouts, but it seemed that there was nothing further she could learn. And yet she had really learned quite a lot. She walked slowly along the village street, thinking. She now knew that Olivia was pretty and much sought after. Could that be the source of her problems? If one of the gentlemen from the house had taken a fancy to her, it could spell trouble for a provincial doctor’s daughter, especially one with no male relatives to protect her. Sarah frowned. Tom had said that there was a young gentleman and a lord at the house who had both been asking after Olivia. No doubt they were both Ralph’s guests and she would meet them later.
And she had also learnt that Guy had been asking questions—and paying for silence…As though in answer to her thoughts, she saw the familiar bay stallion tied up outside the smithy and, as she watched, Guy’s tall figure emerged into the street. He turned for a parting word with the smith and some money changed hands, which the smith slid hastily into his apron. Sarah hesitated, in two minds as to whether to avoid him, but it was too late. He had seen her.
‘Miss Sheridan! Taking an afternoon stroll?’
‘Lord Renshaw.’ Sarah knew she sounded cold. She could not help it, harbouring the suspicions she did. Guy raised an amused eyebrow.
‘Dear me, have I done something to offend you, Miss Sheridan? Something else?’ He looped the reins over his arm and fell into step beside her. ‘Have you had any success in your enquiries?’
‘No,’ Sarah said. She looked him straight in the eyes. ‘Have you, my lord?’
‘Ah.’ A rueful smile curled Guy’s mouth. ‘It seems you have had some success, Miss Sheridan! You know, for instance, that I have been making enquiries of my own!’
‘Indeed! Money buys much, my lord,’ Sarah said sweetly, ‘but old loyalties are worth more!’
‘So it seems!’ Guy still seeme
d rueful. He looked down at her and the expression in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. ‘I can understand why you command such loyalty, Miss Sheridan! Do you not trust me, then?’
‘No,’ Sarah said, surprised and disturbed to find that it was true.
Guy laughed. ‘You may do so. I swear that I would never do anything to hurt you, Sarah!’
‘That is not the point, my lord,’ Sarah objected, trying to ignore the fact that he had addressed her by her given name, and in so caressing a tone that she found it difficult to concentrate. ‘You have not answered my question! Why have you been asking after Miss Meredith?’
Guy shrugged. He gaze was clear and untroubled. ‘I thought to spare you some effort! If I were to find her first, you would have no need to make enquiries and we could all go home! That is all!’
There was a silence. Sarah did not believe him and she felt hollow with hurt at his duplicity. She had given him the chance to confide and he had deliberately chosen not to do so…
‘Penny for your thoughts, Miss Sheridan,’ Guy said lightly.
‘Oh—’ Sarah looked away in confusion ‘—they are not worth half that, my lord! I was merely reflecting on the differences in the village since my father’s time.’
Guy did not challenge her although she had the uncomfortable feeling that he did not believe her. Sarah knew that they both felt that the other was withholding something, but they fell to talking about Blanchland, a topic that lasted all the way back to the house and which both of them knew was assumed over more important preoccupations.
There was a different smell in the entrance hall at Blanchland when they got back, a mixture of beeswax and fresh flowers. Sarah stopped and stared. The terra-cotta-and-black-tiled floor was shining and the white marble pillars, no longer festooned with cobwebs, glowed softly in the light. Guy whistled.
‘What a remarkable transformation! And so quickly! Your handiwork, Lady Amelia?’
Amelia was standing by the stairs, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, an old apron over her dress. Beside her was a small maid, clutching a polishing cloth and looking terrified. Amelia smiled.
Blanchland Secret Page 12